All Bets Are On
by GrandeVanillaSkimLatte
Summary: With the Quidditch World Cup approaching Sirius and Hermione get into another of their famous arguments. Things turn interesting when somebody suggests they settle things with a bet. Gift for SBlackisi. SiriusHermione.


**All Bets Are On

* * *

**

"I think it's one thing to be patriotic, but another to have such blind faith in a team that clearly only got this far by sheer luck!" Hermione was screaming, her fingers clutching the back of the kitchen chair, as she became more and more frustrated.

The rest of the kitchens occupants - minus Sirius - had all taken up seats on the opposite side, staying well away from the volatile witch and her twitching wand hand. Harry, Ginny, Remus and Ron had all remained silent throughout the increasingly heated exchange, and with good reason. An argument between Sirius and Hermione never ended well, especially not for anyone who dared to interfere.

"How can you say that? How can you not support your home team? I can't believe I am living in the same house with somebody who is so... so..." he spluttered, kicking the back of his own chair in an attempt to release some of his anger and frustration that was currently directed toward the much younger woman who had been living at Grimmauld Place for several years.

"I didn't say I don't support the English side, I merely pointed out that the Bulgarians had a far superior line-up..." Hermione countered, her knuckles turning even whiter as she resisted the urge to go for her wand.

"Krum," Sirius practically spat, "By superior you're talking about Viktor bloody Krum."

Hermione looked shocked at his vicious tone, but continued to plough on, "Of course I mean Viktor. Surely you can't deny he's by far the most talented player the league has seen in the past century!"

"Most talented lover too, by the way you still seem to hero worship him," Sirius snapped, taking a step back from the table as her expression turned black.

"How dare you," she hissed, letting go of the chair and slowly stalking around the table toward the older pureblood.

"I dare, because I can," he countered, but still took another step back.

"I do not hero worship him, he is my friend," she said through gritted teeth, her wand suddenly in her hand.

"Is that what they call them these days? Friends…" Sirius said softly, his eyes flicking to her wand just as his back hit the wall beside the door.

"Sirius, stop," Remus finally interrupted, coming up slowly behind Hermione, his hands out to show he held no weapon.

Both parties turned to glare at the ex-professor, the only man who had ever dared to interfere in one of their arguments.

"Obviously neither of you are ever going to agree about this topic," he said, swallowing hard before continuing, "So why not make things interesting?"

"What are you on about Moony?" Sirius asked, staring down at the wand in Hermione's ever-steady hand, sounding more curious than angry now.

"A bet, how about a bet?" Harry suggested, coming up beside Remus, seeing his opportunity to diffuse the situation before any more wands had to be drawn.

"What kind of a bet?" Hermione asked warily, her wand slowly lowering from Sirius chest as she turned to stare at her best friend.

"Whoever's team loses tomorrow at the World Cup has to..." Harry started to say, but was interrupted by Ginny.

"Do the dishes for a month?" she suggested.

"No," Remus said, a gleam entering his eye, "Clean the hair from the drains for a year."

"No," Ron disagreed, "Deal with Crookshank's litter tray."

"I know," Harry said, turning back to Hermione and Sirius, both of whom had stopped shooting optical daggers at the other, "A tattoo. Whoever wins gets to choose the design."

"What?" Hermione cried, staring at Harry incredulously.

"No!" Sirius practically shouted, his face turning white at the thought just what the devious young witch would demand be branded on him for the rest of his life.

Probably a unicorn.

"Actually…" Remus trailed off, a thoughtful look crossing his face.

"No, please no," Hermione moaned, "Don't tell me you agree with him?"

"I think he has a point. Maybe if one of you has to go through with it you will start to think before you begin these petty arguments," the werewolf shrugged.

"But a tattoo," Sirius said, wide eyed, "Can you imagine what she'll choose?" he said faintly.

"Oh, so you think I am going to win then, do you?" Hermione asked, a grin spreading across her face as she turned back to her sparring partner.

"I didn't say that," he growled.

"Then you shouldn't have to worry about what design I would pick then, should you?" she asked, her grin becoming a smug smile as she turned away and flounced out of the kitchen.

"Sirius, I would be a little worried if I were you mate," Ron chuckled, sitting back in his chair.

"Bloody hell," the animagus moaned, dropping to the nearest seat, his head in his hands.

* * *

Hermione jolted awake as the feel of a large body dipped her ageing mattress heavily to one side. Slipping her hand under her pillow, she felt the smooth, pliable willow wand resting there.

"How can you do that?" a gruff voice asked her.

"Do what?" she mumbled, her body relaxing no less when she recognized her bed partner. Her fingers slipped around her wand to gain a better grip as she gauged the distance between her pillow and his head.

"Sleep," he replied, either not realizing or completely ignoring the potential danger of entering her room uninvited.

"It's rather easy," she replied, her voice still husky and low from sleep, "I just close my eyes and enjoy the _peace_ and _quite_."

Sirius continued to glare down at the prone woman, her hair covering most of her face, the rest of her body wrapped tightly in multiple blankets.

"It's not that easy," he hissed back, shifting further onto the bed, nudging her hip with his. When she refused to budge he just settled himself into the curves of her body.

"Sirius, if you can't sleep, then let me. Whatever moral dilemma you are currently dealing with can wait until a decent hour," she sighed, using her forearm to push the heavy fall of curls from her eyes and staring up at him with exasperation.

The combined sound of that deep, husky voice, the heavy weight of her body pressed around him, and the muted darkness of her room sent an unexpected erotic jolt through Sirius. He reached down to push at her shoulder until she flopped onto her back, one hand remaining under her pillow, the other resting lightly on her stomach.

She blinked up at him silently until he squirmed.

"Okay, I can't stop thinking about the bet," he confessed, shifting again so that he was nestled against the curve of her waist, one hand dropping to her other side to brace his weight over her.

Her eyes flicked from his face, which was now much closer in the dark room, to the arm that effectively caged her in.

"Worried, are you?" she teased, a grin slowly spreading across her lips, making her eyes shine - even in the dim light.

"Actually, yes. I've been thinking about what you said…"

Hermione gave a fake gasp, "Really?"

"This isn't funny. What I'm trying to say is…"

"I was right? I know I am," she interrupted again smugly.

"No, that perhaps…." He started to growl.

"You should apologize?"

Sirius snarled and bought both hands up to either side of her head, sinking the pillow in around her. Hermione's giggle faded as she stared up at him.

"Listen, _little girl_," he said, his voice dropping to a menacing growl, his face now inches from hers, "I was going to suggest calling this ridiculous bet off, but I think I've changed my mind."

"Sirius…" Hermione sighed, giving up on making jokes and looking as tired as she felt.

"No, no more interrupting," he said, grinding his teeth together as he fought with the anger and annoyance that only she seemed to be able to produce in him.

"But…"

"I said, no!" he growled, and before he knew quite how it happened, his lips had crashed down on hers in the only way he knew how to effectively shut a woman up.

His mouth drank from hers until she moaned, dropped her wand and wound her arms around his neck. Gasping when his upper body dropped down to cover hers, he used the opportunity to surge his tongue forward, into her mouth.

Hermione's mind shut down as she reacted to the onslaught of pure male need, arching her body into his as she gave everything and demanded equally back. Her mind was racing, but she couldn't seem to grasp a single thought, all she was sure of was that a man she had spent the past several years verbally sparring with was now kissing her like she was everything he had ever wanted.

He moaned into her mouth, his hands smoothing down her sides to push away the heavier barrier between them. It was hard to comprehend just what was coming over him, this woman - who usually infuriated, frustrated and often outsmarted him - was suddenly the object he wanted to be closer to than ever before.

It finally clicked then - when his hips pressed her deeply into the ancient mattress and she let out a strangled moan, a sound that seemed to get caught in her throat - that the constant bickering, arguing and occasional prank was all a different version of flirting. That the tension that often radiated between them was so obviously sexual he wondered why nobody had ever pointed it out before.

Hermione hooked her leg over his hip when he drew back from her mouth, gasping and kissing his way down her neck to her breasts. He was moving so fast that her brain didn't have time to catch up with her body that was slowly spiralling out of control on waves of pleasure.

"Sirius," she gasped, meaning to tell him to stop, fully prepared to kick him out of her room so she could think again; breathe again.

Sirius took her gasp as encouragement, and all her honourable intentions flew out the window when his wandering lips found the swell of her breasts just above the thick flannel pyjama's she wore on cold winter nights. His wandering hands slipped the top few buttons from their loops, and she was suddenly exposed to the cool night air.

He barely gave her time to shiver, as his tongue and lips covered her as thoroughly as he had her mouth. His fingers slipped nimbly down the rest of the buttons, exposing her torso to his feverish kisses.

"Oh sweet Merlin!" she cried out, clutching at his hair when his lips wrapped around one straining nipple.

Her mind kept chanting that it had been so long. So long since somebody had touched her this way, made her feel the creeping sensations that clawed at her stomach and made her tug at his hair, until he moved his lips back up to her own.

She wrapped herself around him, feeling the hard planes of his shirtless chest and stomach, running her hands down the tattooed muscles of his back all the way to the black jeans and heavy leather belt at his waist.

Sirius responded with a groan, his hands sliding up and down her sides, his finger dipping beneath the elastic waistband of her pants, each time causing her stomach muscles to jump and her hips to buck.

His tongue surged into her mouth and at the same time he pulled back enough to reach into her underwear, finding her hot and wet beneath his fingertips. Hermione let out a shuddering moan, her hips moving to meet his roving touch as he explored her as thoroughly as he had the rest of her body.

He pulled back from her kiss, coming back in for a quick peck as if he wasn't quite ready to leave her mouth yet, before he spoke, "Hermione."

She shuddered at the deep husky tone, the sound vibrating through her. Gasping when his fingers touched a particularly sensitive spot, she was unable to respond.

"Hermione," he said again, laving her neck with wet kisses, his eyes never leaving her face. Her eyes fluttered closed and she arched her back, pressing more of them together.

"Yes?" she hissed, her body undulating with the movement of his, following the slow rise and fall as he found the perfect rhythm.

"About the bet…" he murmured, his lips sliding back down to her breasts, his lips almost as much of a distraction as his hand.

"Hmm?" she moaned, her hands once again holding him to her, a slow heat flowing from her core out to her limbs, her body quick to respond after so much time neglected.

"How about we make it more _interesting_?" he breathed the last against her damp skin; gaining him just the reaction he was after.

"How so?" she managed to gasp out, just as one long finger entered her body.

Sirius took a moment to rise up along her body, kissing her deeply as he savoured the feel of her clutching walls around his hand, feeling the tiny pulses that signalled just how aroused the witch beneath him was.

"Well," he whispered, drawing back his body as well as his hand, relishing the moan that tore from her throat, "If I win, you let me do what I want, how I want it, to you," he smirked, plunging his finger back in, curling it upwards and hitting a spot deep within her, making her see stars.

"And if I win?" she gasped, bucking her hips into his hand, just as he drew his finger back over that spot.

"You get to take me, use me, do what you want with me," he breathed, his lips a fraction from hers, his hand never ceasing that dragging motion.

His words and touch, the dimness of the room - the intimacy of being partly clothed in bed with a man who was clearly aroused - set her mind whirling. The response she went to give came out as a tortured moan and her orgasm swept over her with little warning, taking them both by surprise.

Hermione bucked and writhed beneath him, drawing his head back down to hers to kiss him so deeply she felt as if her lips would bruise. One hand took hold of his belt, holding on to that one solid piece of him, feeling his own hard arousal against her upper thigh.

When her body's spasms began to quiet, she slowly slumped back down on the bed. Sirius stayed pressed against her, breathing heavily into her neck, fighting with his own arousal.

"Oh god," she groaned, feeling a little like her limbs had turned to mush.

"So we have a deal then?" he asked quietly, looking up at her with lazy eyes.

"What?" she asked, fighting the hazy, post orgasm fog that seemed to be slowing down her cognitive processes.

"The bet. You, me, here tomorrow," he repeated, grinning down at her as she blinked up at him.

When Hermione just blinked up at him with a frown, realizing he was serious, she didn't know how to respond. Sirius's grin just grew wider as he pulled out of her arms, untangling his legs from the blankets that were strewn around them, and rolling out of bed, his feet dropping heavily onto the thick-carpeted floor.

"What about the tattoo?" she called out when he had reached the door, her voice cracking.

Sirius turned back to look at her, his eyes sweeping over her naked torso, her tousled hair and the rumpled bed clothes around her – all stark reminders of what had just passed between them.

"I gave you a chance to back out of that part of the deal, and you chose to ignore me. So the bet is still on," he replied with a maddening grin.

"But…" Hermione said, sitting up and staring at him incredulously now.

"See you tomorrow, Granger," he laughed, turning back to the door, "Oh, and wear something black; sweeten the deal a little more," he shot over his shoulder, before he was out the door and she was once again in her bed alone.

* * *

"_This is turning out to__ be a very exciting match folks,"_ the commentator on the radio, an elderly man with a nasally voice, repeated for what seemed to be the twentieth time in as many minutes.

"_Indeed Charles, very exciting indeed. With Bulgaria sitting at two hundred and twenty two and England on three hundred and seventy…"_ Hermione tried to tune out the slow drone of the second commentator, well aware of the score since it hadn't changed in over an hour.

She sat on one of the many well worn couches at the Burrow, surrounded by red-headed Weasley's, their spouses and close friends. Sirius sat opposite her, smirking every time England's come from behind lead was mentioned.

The match was being played in the Sahara Dessert, well away from Muggles and under such tight security that Hermione was glad in a way that work schedules had interfered in travel plans for many of them.

"So Hermione, what did you decide on if Bulgaria make a comeback in say… the next day or so?" Fred asked with a teasing grin.

"Decide on?" she asked distractedly, her brain having drifted to the night before, her body trying not to remember the feel of those large rough hands on her body.

"Sirius's tattoo," George prompted.

Hermione flushed and tried valiantly not to think about the other decisions Sirius had asked her to make. Like just how she would want to take him if he was hers for a night.

"Well, a unicorn was tempting," she said slowly, shooting a grin in the animagus's direction, feeling a thrill through her when a stricken look came over his face, "And a flobberworm would certainly be interesting. But since he started this animal theme, I think Crookshanks will do."

"Crookshanks?" several voices asked, abandoning the droning commentary that seemed to be running in circles.

"Yes, a tattoo of Crookshanks," Hermione grinned, watching as Sirius turned ashen before a determined look took over.

"And you Sirius, if England win and you two do decide to go through with this ridiculous bet; what tattoo would Hermione be getting?" Mrs Weasley asked with pursed lips in obvious disapproval.

A slow grin formed on Sirius's face, and Hermione's breath caught as she remembered that same look from the night before, "A Grim. Something to remember me by," he winked.

Hermione started; surprised he wasn't the one suggesting flobberworm's or worse, a portrait of Snape.

"Shh, something's happening," Ron hissed from his position next to the wireless.

Everyone's attention went immediately from Hermione and Sirius to the wizarding wireless set up on the coffee table, as if they could see the play happening before them.

"_Yes Charles, he has. Krum's seen the snitch!"_ the commentator cried in his first display of emotion, beyond bored.

"But that means…" Ginny started, frowning.

"He probably won't catch it," Remus objected, shooting a look between his oldest friend and the smart witch to his left.

Hermione wondered what they were talking about for a moment before the commentator answered the unspoken question of why the room was suddenly tense.

"… _He's dived for it! This is it Mick, if he catches this it will be the first tie in a Quidditch World Cup final since Wombly Bickles in seventeen seventy eight!..."_

"No!" Ron cried, when the sound of the crowd drowned out the commentary.

"He'll pull back, he has to pull back," Bill said, the room falling into an odd hush as the crowd seemed to hold its collective breath.

There was a pause, even on the radio, as if nobody dared to move, before a deafening scream roared through at them on the radio.

"_He's caught the snitch! It's a tie!"_ The commentator - which one nobody could tell - was crying through the microphone, over and over again.

"I can't believe it," somebody said faintly, just who Hermione couldn't tell since the blood was rushing in her ears and she was pretty sure she was going to pass out.

"Well, that's… fair, I suppose," Mrs Weasley was saying, getting up as if that was that, and the game was over.

Hermione's head dropped back on the couch as she stared up at the vaulted ceiling, wondering just how the evening was going to pan out, since neither of them had really lost.

"Come on Hermione, we have a bet to fulfil," a deep familiar voice said, tugging on her hand.

She looked up startled, Sirius was standing over her with a determined gleam in his eye.

"Now?" she asked, looking around the room and at the people she was almost certain thought the bet was still just about a bit of body art.

"Yup, now. Before you chicken out and find some excuse not to fulfil your end of the bargain."

"I-I wouldn't…" she stammered, letting him drag her off the couch, almost falling into his arms.

He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and turned back to the room, the slightly disappointed group all staring at them now with amusement.

"Well, it's been a lovely evening, now if you will all excuse us," he said, tipping his imaginary hat at the hosts before steering her toward the fireplace.

Hermione let herself be dragged along, her body going numb at the thought of what was to come. She had spent all day in a lust fuelled cloud - her body quick to respond to any touch or look from him - that she was sure the moment they were alone in a room together she would explode.

They had barely touched down in Grimmauld Place's little used living room when his hands were all over her, his mouth claiming possession and his tongue sweeping across hers, leaving little argument about where the evening was headed.

"Now, since it was your team that caught the snitch, I'll let you go on top first," he growled, pulling her back into the room, dropping on the nearest armchair and pulling her down to straddle his lap.

Her long, heavy robe was gone within seconds and his eyes took in the black satin teddy with its subtle lace trim.

"Honey, if you had just shown me this before the match began, I would have thrown in the towel and said screw the bet, just screw me," he murmured, kissing along her neck, his lips tracing the lace along the swell of her breasts.

"Is that what you want me to do?" she asked, her hands finding purchase in his hair, sighing when his lips retraced his steps from the night before.

"Screw me, fuck me, suck me. Anything you want, just make me yours," he gasped, finding her nipple amongst the sheer fabric, drawing it into his mouth, and earning him a small noise of approval.

"Do you know what I want Sirius?" she moaned, when his hands ran up her thighs, finding a tiny pair of matching black knickers.

"What?" he groaned, finding her already wet for him.

"I want you to screw me, fuck me, lick me, do me, anyway you want. But not just tonight, but tomorrow, and the next day, and as long as you want me," she confessed, her head dropping back as his fingers found her tight bundle of nerves.

He paused long enough to draw her attention; her whole body seemed to be focussed on every point he touched her.

"Sirius?" she asked, biting her lip, suddenly doubting her words when he didn't speak.

"You mean it?" he finally choked out, drawing up from her breasts to look her in the eye.

"Yes," she breathed, pouring every ounce of sincerity she had into that one word.

Sirius response was that same boyish grin, the one that told her she had done something he liked. She squealed in surprise when they were both suddenly naked.

She would have to remember to ask him how he had vanished their clothes so quickly, but later.

Much later.

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_


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